Dancing Lessons
by kawaiiokama
Summary: ONESHOT! PWP, sebxciel, just your generic fare. giftfic for my wonderful Beta. M for a reason. please refrain from reading if you have an issue with yaoi.


…Dedications…

A special fic, written and beta-d myself, as a special gift for one of my nearest and dearest, the lovely 'Gothallex' who read my fist fanfic all the way back in November, and encouraged me to keep on writing.

If I had known id make such a wonderful friend by writing yaoi, I would have started years ago.

All my loves,

Me.

...warnings...

bad beta-ing, smut, yaoi, shouta too, i guess. sebastianxciel fic so if you dont like that pairing, dont read. um... ciel is having a halloween party, yes. and thats more or less it. nothing awesome. just yes. hmm... my first ever kuroshitsuji fic.

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><p>"Care to dance, young master?"<p>

Evening falls without a care for revellers, the cloak of night curtains leaded windows, the lace on elaborate costume painted silver by the moon mounted in the sky. A hand, offered to a boy with eyes dyed the same dark blue of sapphires and misted with the visions of smoke, is ignored at first. Spidery black lashes sweep a teacup white cheek in the briefest gesture of acknowledgement. With leisurely, languid grace, the boy uncrosses his legs and sighs.

"Must I? You know how I feel about an audience."

"What audience?"

What few attendees remained are resting, sharing wine in a distant room they won't leave until dawn broke and coaxed them forth into the real world. Candles in the ballroom flicker, spitting and drowning slowly in pools of melted wax. The shadows cast on towering walls are not entirely faithful to the two lone occupants of the space, the tall distorted form of a man is not an accurate representation of Sebastian Michaelis, and nor the morphing humped shape aside a true recount of Ciel Phantomhive seated on a throne-esque chair. But that is unimportant. The expression on the butlers face is genuine enough.

"What if someone decides to come through and check where I am? Elizabeth will start to wonder soon." Gracefully, Ciel rises, a small scowl of impatience pressing his brow. "Shouldn't you be in there, serving food and being useful?"

"I should be wherever my young master desires." A pleasant smile. From behind the small silk mask seeming eyes savoured a vision of frosty cream. The exposed thighs of his young master, the gentle curves described by flimsy, inconsequential cloth.

"Indeed." A few restrained steps, the waiting palm is pushed away and Ciel doesn't think twice about it. High heels belonging to anklet boots clack on hardwood, laces that untie, trailing behind him in a beckoning trail, slither across the floor with a shush that prickles the back of a cool neck. Rolling hips, the peaking flesh at the bottom of dress-up shorts. Sebastian should follow. A good butler is required to attend on his master at all times. If a butler didn't do such, then what kind of a butler would he be?

"Very well, my young master, but may I pose a question, before we move on?"

"I believe you already did."

"Well, if young master is so sure he wishes to join the festivities…"

Hesitation finds its way into the patient, steady steps of that young boy.

"I haven't much choice, do I? A host is obliged to attend to his guests."

"They sound like they are entertained enough, wouldn't you agree? As a butler, my first priority is your happiness, and I am right to assume that continuing to partake in this merriment would not please you?"

Stopped in his tracks, Ciel turns and looks to his butler. Dark hair obscures his delicate face, the light describes an eerily lilted visage, breathtaking in its detached unearthly beauty.

"As a butler, I believe your first duty is to obey me."

"Are you about to demand I attend on that group?" confident strides carry the man to his master, a bent knee, he lowers his head and once again offers a graceful, white gloved hand. "Or will you do me the honour of sharing this dance?"

"There's no music, Sebastian!" a flush, pretty and virginal, quickly hidden with a flick of his head. "And besides, I'm tired."

"Even weary men are entitled to a little frivolity, my lord. May I be so bold?" that upturned hand finds a bare and petal like palm, implementing a gentle and persuasive grip.

Who wouldn't be taken, by the softness of those pure kid gloves?

It was decided. Ceil's reluctant admission to himself. How could he say no? Sebastian did look so dashing in costume-white. Even when the soft blue of Halloween eve dipped slowly into the ink of midnight, the neat snowy cloth remained pale and radiant. The form of a small dark boy melted against it as if stitched there with benevolent forethought.

There are a few patient steps at first, followed by a few more. A rhythm is reached, swaying hips, close bodies, and the shell of a boy's ear pressed against the breast of a man twice his size, listening closely to the echoes of a heart that technically shouldn't be beating.

"Very good, young master. Back, side together, back side together… you are a natural." A spin, the subtle frills of dark cloth that adorn ceils shirt flutter, before freedom was retracted and he felt the return of his body to that warm, intimate embrace.

"Maybe so, Sebastian, but still I don't care for it."

"Very well, master. Shall we stop now, if it pleases you?" dipping, the breath is stolen from a to-tight chest, his own heart races, and the sound of chatter in the distant room becomes a further part of another world, a place where he no longer wants to be.

"if it pleases me…." the boy is lifted with ease, twirled and deposited back on the floor. Not a step is missed on the part of the butler. "What do you mean?"

"What I always mean, young master. I am, after all, your butler."

When moonlight illuminates the shine of an expensive dress suit, not intended to be worn ever again, it casts the razor blade face of his servant into sharp lucidity. Demons eyes… they fix hungry and intent, a focus unspeakable yet tangible, spine chilling yet enchanting. Demanding, yet also bequeathing a strange surety in ones own freedom of choice. Take it, leave it, give it, keep it. You needn't bestow everything on me.

I am, after all, just your butler.

Yet both know that the beneath the tissue thin surface, everything about this conduct is a lie.

Gifted with an endlessly significant glance, Ciels lips and mind fall silent, his hair is swept aside with consideration that could easily be misinterpreted. To a foolish man, who hasn't seen the evils that the world embraces readily, this touch could be mistaken for concern, maybe even endearment, yet to Ciel it speaks only of a promise, an unbreakable contract.

Sebastian knows different, his eyes close and his hold is released, the smile that pulls his lips is weary, perhaps not with human exhaustion but with genuine sadness. It's an unfamiliar feeling, a little cold, but maybe he could like it, if he so chose. For he truly understands this touch. Whether or not it's a Contractual matter is trivial, after all, he is just a butler.

"Sebastian, forget the party. I'd like to retire now."

"Of course, young master."

…x…

Ribbons make little noise, untied one by one, falling loose to the floor in a most seductive silence. The scent of Sebastian, like tea and dew, is familiar, the feeling of fabric slipping off thin shoulders and pooling around his waist too, does not concern Ciel as his butlers efficient hands strip him naked, bare his skin to the night.

"Shall I run you a bath, young master?"

"No, I think I want just to sleep tonight."

"Very well." The carpeted floor creeks a little as Sebastian kneels down. More laces are undone; the boots are slipped off, gentle hands stroke the soft skin on the top of his master's feet. "How do you feel?"

"My feet are sore."

"Of course."

Given an indication, there is nothing to stop Sebastian from relieving him. The gloves are removed and placed carefully on the side-table, positions are adjusted so he can rest on the end of the bed. Ciel, stripped and white, does not fill much of the space, his slim form barely sinks the mattress, the feeling of satin on naked skin is calming, pleasing. To have both eyes closed in peace as his butler works is the optimum point of this day.

Firm fingers kneed the sole of his foot, rubbing the ball and easing pressure from every joint. Lazily, his eye patch is removed and cast away. Mismatched eyes fall shut, and focus is drawn to the company downstairs, still celebrating the hallow though midnight has long gone.

"That is nice Sebastian."

"If I couldn't please my master, what kind of butler would I be?" with that soft semi-smile still shaping his mouth, another, stronger press is administered. A cry is the response, breathless and contented. Job satisfaction wasn't one of the things Sebastian valued, but it wasn't something he would happily go without.

Again, he gazed upon the face of his master; the peaceful expression on a youthful face is far from happy, but somehow very pure. Like crystal, reflecting all the nameless hopes and fears of everyone who ever lived and died on this sorry earth.

"You're still wearing your mask, Sebastian." An eye cracks open, the vivid colour is not visible in the dark. "Take it off, celebration's over."

Ignoring the request, Sebastian ceases his rubbing, stroking the smooth pallid plane of leg on his lap instead.

"I will undress when I return to my chamber, young master. Shall I send the party home for the evening?"

"No, they can leave on their own accord I'm sure."

"Indeed. Very well. Was there anything else you wanted? Shall I fetch you a drink?"

"No"

"Would you like me to read to you?"¨

A serious suggestion, to which Ciel gave a certain degree of consideration.

"Not tonight."

Holding in a sigh, Sebastian stands.

"Would you like me to masturbate you?"

Deft fingers loosed the curtains on the bed, heavy velvet, dark and warm, swept a dusty shadow across the form on the mattress and blacked out all the light from the window. Though the expression on Ciel's face was not to be made out, it still wore the same mask of consideration it had just previously.

"No… I don't think so."

"Very well, young master, sleep well." The final curtain is drawn, and out of sight from one another the two change.

Broad, stiff shoulders swoop. That perpetual smile slips and a faint scowl of agitation creases an alabaster brow. On the other side of that curtain, Ciel stirs, slipping under his blankets and curling into a small ball. It is very cold, tonight, no heated plates between the sheets. Such lack of forethought on Sebastian's part. He should know better than that.

A shrewd smile, recollection of this neglect spreads across the butlers face at the sound of Ciels soft voice.

"Sebastian, you never warmed my bed."

"Oh? Silly me. My apologies, young master."

"I can't sleep when it's so cold."

"Oh?"

"See to it immediately. Warm me, I order you."

"As you wish, young master."

And curtains of separation become meaningless.

Within the confides of a queen sized bed, protected from the outside world by heavy drapes, it's no longer a matter of being able to see. Not even a demon's eyes need to remain open, blind hands feel their way through the blackness between icy sheets, they slide across familiar planes of fine body and trace barely pronounced chords of muscle. No sound, just the patient shush of flesh on flesh, the inaudible breath of a master waiting to be served.

The question was a simple one, as always, 'would you like me to masturbate you?' And like a midnight dance a part of Ciel knows he wants it, but he could not simply say yes. After all, the contract is a solemn promise. It should be kept with no strings attached. This way… didn't count. He convinces himself that this doesn't count.

Similar thoughts ghost the mind of Sebastian as those long, thin fingers caress a flat stomach, dipping into the bellybutton and earning the first gentle whimper from his charge. It was a butlers place to serve his master. But where was the line? It began to blur, where the obligation became a want, no, a _hunger_ to please as well as to posses. An unanticipated waltz with the forbidden, the unspeakable, the unholy.

"You can go lower, Sebastian."

"Apologies again, young master."

The touch was less cautious now, less shy. Still, his eyes remained closed, preferring to map the form of his master by touch as opposed to sight. Sight was boring, he had seen it all already, but to touch was a luxury he was rarely indulged. The heat of Ciel's body as his hand crept lower, the feeling of the sheets being lifted off his hands by the erection he created. Tenting them and wetting them with stained patches that would be difficult to remove come morning, even with effort.

"ahh… mmm…"

"Is it good?" a few soft brushes sent the boy squirming, arms raised to clutch the pillow, lips popping open wetly so that light yet desperate panting could embellish the air.

"mmm… yes. I- ah!" head tossed sideways, hair fanning. Sebastian opened his eyes; to cosset his master a little more effectively he would need to see what he was doing. The clawed fingers fisting cloth, pretty face distorted in a mask of easy pleasure. For all his airs and graces, the boy was a mere slut really, fast to arouse, easy to please, and frequent to come. But that bothered the butler not one bit.

"What kind of butler would I be if I didn't please my master further?" the sheets were slid back, revealing that small body once more. Arched off the mattress, muscles in his abdomen wound and tense, Ciel too looked up, barely able to see his butler in the murk.

"s-sebastian. Take it off"

"What off?"

"th-the mask… oh… oh god yes…"

A genuine smile broke the mechanical, emotionless curve that so often graced Sebastian's features. His little squirming master, gasping, body trembling with bliss, raises a hand and unties the string that holds the modest mask on, it flutters useless and innocent to the bed sheets, and in exchange his butler undoes this boy too, stroking and pinching the skin between his thighs.

"Will you still dance with me, Ciel?" head lowered, wide, soft lips press to the flushed crown of Ciel's own quivering Master. After all, who could deny the demands of something so beautiful and sweet? Not Ciel, and certainly never Sebastian. What kind of butler… what kind of butler…

What kind of _master_ would deny him such an honorific duty?

"W-what do you mean?" breathless, eyes shut tight. Little encouraging thrusts forward beg with Sebastian to embrace the boy with his mouth and are heeded, inch by inch. Lips press together frantically, to suppress the delighted moan, but are promptly pushed apart again by a cry as that devilish tongue slips up the underside, sharp teeth nibbling at an over-sensitive head.

A few more feline laps, a gentle jerk of a persuasive palm, the boy reaches his climax. Not waiting for release to finish, panting, still moaning softly, he raises his head and sighs.

"That never warmed my sheets, i-idiot. I-"

But no more is said.

It's hard to speak when there is a mouth on yours, hands gripping your face, tongue probing your lips and desperate for a taste. A much easier response is made, hands previously clawed in the pillow begin pulling frantically at an unwanted suit, long legs wrap desperate around an insistent waist and they tumble, tangled. A messy kiss, open mouthed and without decorum, warm wet and everywhere. Lips, jaw, neck, nose, ears… just everywhere, the need to taste overwhelming.

The suit is removed easily, really, and the cold sheets are long since irrelevant, but the dance is only just beginning. Explorative hands press hips and massage legs, thighs are parted willingly and every point of contact burns with unnatural heat.

"ah… oh Sebastian… oh Sebastian…" between those spread legs a tongue works, clearing the way for more than just fingers. The rigid angles of ceils pleasured body become sharper as an ever ambitious mouth presses further, the urgency to come is ignored, the boy lifts his whole lower body, so that his butler can eat him up, lick and suck and kiss places never touched before.

"How is it, young master? Am I pleasing you?"

A trail of saliva, all the way from a refined little neck to wide open legs, shines wet over wholesome flesh, all resistance broken, everything hopelessly forgotten. Contract, rest, dancing… everything is disregarded and even Sebastian is caught off guard by the tackle, the aggression with which his master pins him down and mounts his hips.

"Who's your master, Sebastian?"

… How can you hear sex?

It's the thickness of the words, the husky slur of lust drizzling every syllable with honey, the sound of breathless arousal sliding down a severe spine and the splendid edges that say 'obey me' louder than the rules of any contract.

"You are, young lord."

"Do you want your master, Sebastian?" the press of erection against the swell of ass was enough to know that yes, he does. But the need to hear those words aloud is great, it overwhelms both parties and draws them back to the lowest denominator all beings have, human, demon, angel… lust.

"Yes, my master."

"Say it aloud!" A sharp slap to the bared stomach below. It stings, which is a sensation Sebastian has never experienced.

"I want you, my young lord."

"Well isn't that lucky… I order you to come for me tonight. Thinking of me, making love to me, and needing me. I order you to relieve me… can you do that?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good."

It's not hard to become one.

To join two bodies on the level of flesh, to feel someone else inside, or to feel the press of another being all around you. An impatient boy who throws his head back in ecstasy, riding a man who has lived forever with all the fervour of hell itself is something much more straight-forward than a contract signed in blood, or terms for an exchange of souls. A demon shouldn't want such simplicity, and no human should want such evil, yet the dance grew much more delirious, rapturous cries and creaking bed slats, the wild tossing of hair and mashing of lips. The skin slapping skin as each drove the other to completion.

"Let me t-teach you, young master… I want to teach…"

"No, don't teach, just harder… harder Sebastian, harder!"

"but-"

"Who's m-master here? Do you dare to dis-ah! Oh… ahhhh…." Smaller, shallower slams, Ciel's heart hammering, rubbing his servant against his body deep in the way that could only be described as perfect. Tension, delicious and almost painful, clenching muscles in a youthful abdomen, still not accustomed to the throes of orgasm.

Desperate panting, rocking faster and faster, as culmination approaches everything is put into perspective for both.

To the glorious boy who came screaming, arms buckling, hair a tousled mess, a new understanding of his power.

To the man who came in silence, not trusting himself to speak any longer, the realisation that he was no longer leading in this dance with the devil.

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><p>I don't own kuroshitsuji, or any of the characters in this fic. If I did I would have to time share Sebastian with my lovely gothallex, and that could certainly create problems, yes?<p>

Its okay, my dear. I'll take finny and the undertaker, and 'borrow' Sebastian whenever you aren't using him. ^^

Good plans. I am full of them.


End file.
